Ambler Stampede Reaches The Beach (2003)

By: Jim Moulton

It's said the darkest hour comes just before dawn. It came true for me at 5:30 on a cold New England morning. I was about to run my third leg of the Reach The Beach Relay, a 207 mile trek from Breton Woods Ski Area to Hampton Beach, New Hampshire.  This was the fifth annual running of this event, which has grown in popularity to attract 200 teams from all over the country. There are 12 members on a team, split into two vans. Van 1 supports the first 6 runners then Van 2 takes over and so on.  Eventually, each runner runs three legs which average about 6 miles each. The logistics are amazing. Somehow the organizers manage 36 transition areas, 400 vans and countless volunteers.  The 2003 Event saw AARC's inaugural participation in the event, with a team designated "The Ambler Stampede."

Our runners in Van 2 had run through the night and their 6th runner was approaching. I was tired, achy, cold and uninspired. We had managed only two hours of sleep. I was feeling pretty low. Nevertheless, I was called to duty. I was going to do my thing for the team. Per race regulations, I donned my reflective vest with flashing lights attached front and back . I headed for the port-a-pot for one last visit. Although there were lights outside, the insides were pitch black, all except  this one. Someone's flasher had fallen into the abyss. Every two seconds I got a good look at something I didn't want to see. Funny as it was, it didn't cheer me up.

Ali came out of the darkness, all smiles, passed me the bracelet and I was off. I adjusted my headlamp and started up the first incline of a hilly 8.8 mile course, in quest of another roadkill. If you pass another runner, you claim a roadkill. I passed a runner about half way up the hill, score one! I started to feel better.  Moments later, I was roadkill. In some kind of sadistic scheme, the race organizers had started the race in waves. The slower teams started the race at 8:00 on Friday morning. Throughout the day, more teams were released until the elite teams were released at 6:00 PM. The gazelles passed us mortal runners throughout the race. I felt the air turbulence as he passed me.

Humbled, I plodded on. The stiffness was gone, another roadkill, I was feeling pretty good. Night running is almost totally silent. Your breath and footfalls are the only sounds. Each breath produced a cloud in the light of my headlamp. The next mile would bring me to the halfway point. It was a climb of 400 feet but I knew it was mostly downhill after that. The overhanging trees formed a tunnel overhead. At the top of the hill, I could see a brightening sky through the end of the tunnel. I shortened my stride, pumped my arms and ran towards the light. At the crest, it was like, it was like ... Okay, remember when Dorothy steps out of the house and sees Munchkin Land? The music comes up and the movie goes from black and white to magnificent color. 

Well, I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

I looked over the treetops onto a bright, beautiful fall landscape. The sunrise was breathtaking. A cool breeze washed over my face. To make it even better, I was now running downhill. A little while later, I passed a postcard scene. A thin mist was rising from a pond in a meadow. The mist seemed to hang in the treetops. Above the trees, the puffy clouds were lined in a gentle pink. It was a magic moment. Just then, I was roadkill for the third time. A young, female gazelle flashed by me. It didn't matter.

As I passed the bracelet to Nathan, he said, "You're done". A bit surprised with myself, I wanted to keep running.  I had been roadkilled 5 times and satisfied my blood lust 6 times. It was a good run. Now, I wanted to support my team to the finish. In a short time, we had developed a bond with a common goal. You learn something when you are thrown together for such an intense experience. I learned that Tom absolutely must have his coffee in the morning.  I learned that Karen can sleep anywhere, anytime. I learned that Nathan likes to stop and smell the roses. The trouble is that he stops for every single rose. I learned that 4 women and 8 men, ranging in age from 21 to 59 with little in common other than a passion for running can merge into a single unit bent on moving a bracelet 207 miles.

Twenty eight hours, forty nine minutes and seven seconds after the start, Jim, Nathan, Tom, Karen, Christine, Steve, Herman, Sandor, John, Don, Meredith and Ali crossed the finish line, arms raised in a delirious euphoria. It was another magic moment.